


butterflies and hurricanes

by great_gospel



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, F/M, Ichiruki, happy fic wat is this, shitty humour is shitty, the prompt fill that nobody asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 13:19:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7936261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/great_gospel/pseuds/great_gospel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rukia, Ichigo, and one bar brawl later ; “sorry I knocked you out in that bar fight last night, but I brought you to the hospital and stuck around ‘til you woke up to apologize” au</p>
            </blockquote>





	butterflies and hurricanes

**Author's Note:**

> Word Count: 1,527  
> Timeline/Spoilers: au; no spoilers  
> Summary: Rukia, Ichigo, and one bar brawl later ; “sorry I knocked you out in that bar fight last night, but I brought you to the hospital and stuck around ‘til you woke up to apologize” au  
> Notes: Because I saw the prompt on Tumblr, and these two losers were my first thought. Originally posted to FFN blah blah blah

_‘He even scowls in his sleep,’_ Rukia mused. _‘He’d almost be cute if he lost that look.’_ She had paused her nervous pacing across the polished hospital floor when she caught the sour expression on the patient’s face. She recognized the boy from her history class at university (Kurosaki something or other), so she was familiar with his ugly mug, but they had never really intermingled before. Rukia wanted to fling her face into her hands and sit in the corner in embarrassment at the thought of their first interaction being her fist colliding with his face and him waking up in a hospital bed. But she was a Kuchiki, and she had far too much pride for that.

It wasn’t even her fault (mostly). _No, really!_ She had been at a local bar that may or may not have been located in the shadier part of town to let of some steam after a rough day. And she may or may not have managed to piss off some thugs and instigate a bar fight. And it was completely up in the air whether or not she may have felt a hand on her shoulder and thrown the first punch without first checking who her target was. It was also possible that all hell broke loose afterwards and that she heard police sirens amidst the commotion, but she was too busy (allegedly) dragging the unconscious orange-haired idiot out into the alleyway, in a scene all too reminiscent to a body dump, and (with much difficulty) into the backseat of her town car and screeching at Imoyama, “Drive! Just fucking drive!” (Why her brother ever hired such an imbecile to serve as her driver was beyond her.)

And she had been so magnanimous as to have him driven to the hospital to be treated, (though she did have to admit him under a pseudonym). She would be paying for his expenses, as well, of course (from her own allowance), for the younger Kuchiki was certain her refined elder sibling would fall into cardiac arrest on the spot, should the events transpired ever reach his ears. Rukia was even staying until the fool woke up so that she could give him a piece of her mind— er, apologize, she meant. Speaking of which…

A muffled groan emanated from patient as he slowly roused from his less than peaceful slumber. His hand came up to nurse his dislodged nose while he turned to see the figure seated at his bedside.

 _‘Alright, moment of truth, Kuchiki.’_ Rukia put on her best performance voice and bearings. “Ah, Kurosaki-kun,” she chirped, “thank goodness you’ve finally awoken!”

The boy deadpanned.

She tried for the fake tears. “I was so worried!” she cried as she daintily wiped at her cheeks with an embroidered handkerchief.

He wasn’t having it. “What the fuck happened to me?” he groused.

She let the façade fall, lips twitching in irritation at his blunt manner. “Do you remember anything that happened?” she asked, crossing her arms.

His eyebrows scrunched together in thought. (She was not thinking about how it was slightly adorable. Not at all.) “I was at the bar, winding down after class, when some idiot” (Rukia bristled at this) “went and started a fist fight, and then someone knocked me out.” He frowned. “When I get my hands on that bastard—“

“It was me.” No more games, she decided. This kid wasn’t falling for any of her usual traps, anyway.

“No fucking way,” he shot back immediately.

His calm certainty made her spring to her feet and thrust a finger in his chest. “What, you don’t think I could’ve done it because I’m a girl?!” she seethed.

He rolled his eyes, further inciting her irritation. “Calm down, would ya? I never said that. Look, one of my best friends is a girl who kicks my ass on a regular basis.” She calmed down at this. “But you look like you’re fucking twelve.” Nonetheless, that line made her shoot right back up, hands at his throat, ready to throttle him, when someone knocked on the door. She shot him a look that said, ‘You got lucky this time,’ as she stood up to let in the nurse, allowing her sweet, smiling act to slide back into place.

The nurse checked his vitals and assured him that his nose would be healed within the week. “I’ll let Dr. Kurosaki know how you’re doing,” she smiled on her way out.

His stupid, orange eyebrows shot up. “Wait, where did you say I was?”

“I didn’t.” Rukia insisted on being as difficult as possible. “We’re at Karakura General.”

If at all possible, his scowl deepened. “You idiot.”

“Wh- what?!” She sprung to her feet, indignant.

“The doctor is my father. My family runs this place.” Rukia felt her face grow warm. “We have the same last name for crying out loud!”

“I figured it was just a common surname!” she squawked, thoroughly mortified.

“I can’t believe this,” he muttered, mumbling something about ‘stupid goat-chins’ that she didn’t quite catch. “Kurumadani Zennosuke – what the hell?!” he cried, getting riled up all over again. The nurse had apparently left behind the clipboard with his information on it.

This day was just getting better and better. “I gave them a fake name for you, okay?”

“What are you, some kind of delinquent?!”

“Pipe down!” she hissed. “I just don’t want anyone learning about this little…incident. I’d be in big trouble if the wrong people found out.”

“You’re not making yourself sound any better,” he deadpanned.

She scowled, mirroring him perfectly. “Look, I have your bills all covered, okay? So just don’t worry about anything else.”

“No need when my dad owns the damn place,” he muttered out of the side of his mouth.

“What was that?!”

“Er…my name is Kurosaki Ichigo, for the record.”

“Ah. Much better than Kurumadani Zennosuke,” she smirked.

Ichigo let out a light chuckle. Rukia was actually enjoying this banter, though she would never admit it out loud. He was quick-witted and could keep pace with her.

The boy ran a hand through his slightly matted hair. “So what was with that sickeningly sweet act earlier? You may get away with it in class, but it made me want to vomit. _Kuchiki-san_ ,” he mocked, sticking his tongue out for emphasis.

She sat up straight, more out of instinct than anything. “So you do know who I am,” she commented.

“Of course, you’re the shrimp who sits behind me in history.”

A vein twitched on her forehead. “So you were perfectly aware that I am not fucking twelve,” she hissed dangerously, veering in close.

He held his hands up appeasingly, realizing the rut he’d dug himself into. She was a raging hurricane trapped in four feet, eight and a half inches of adorable. _‘Man, she’s cute when she’s angry.’_ The thought startled him. He tried to grasp at something in his mind to distract from the traitorous idea. “Wait, so why the hell did you punch me anyway?!”

Rukia had the decency to blush. Her gaze shifted to the side, not meeting his eyes. “You laid a hand on me, and my first instinct was to turn around and sock you.” The bastard had the gall to laugh at her response! Just as she was starting to feel bad! He could kiss that apology goodbye now! “What’s so funny?!” she demanded.

“Easy,” he waved his hand again, attempting to placate her rage. “It’s just. You got me pretty good. That was a mean right hook.”

She smirked. “Damn right it was.”

“But sheesh,” he said, not unkindly, “I was just trying to help out a girl who looked like she was in a bind, and the next think I know, I wake up in a hospital bed.”

“Well, clearly I can take care of myself,” she said, sounding much too pleased with herself, and offering him her signature pixie grin.

“That’s one thing we can agree on. So,” he said, a tad too breezily, laying back and throwing his hands behind his head, “how do you plan on making this up to me?” The indignant look on her face would have set him into another fit of laughter if he wasn’t so set on appearing lax.

 “I’m already paying for—“

Her finger shot out at him again, and he brushed it away casually. “And like I said, my old man runs the place. Besides, what about the _emotional_ toll this took on me?” Ichigo said languidly, eyes sliding shut.

 _…Oh_. So that was his game. She stood, making to leave, but not before turning her head over her shoulder and telling him, “Friday. Pick me up at eight. I’ll make it up to you then.”

Ichigo’s eyes went wide. (Yup, it was definitely a cute look, she decided.) He hadn’t been expecting that one, though he couldn’t say he was displeased. Butterflies were fluttering in his stomach; he found he didn’t quite mind. “What did you say your name was?”

She winked. “I didn’t. Kuchiki Rukia.” Her fingers waved at him on her way out the door. “See you in class.”


End file.
